


The Warrior Queen

by marquess_of_pembroke



Category: 16th Century CE RPF, The Tudors (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bittersweet, Child Loss, Family, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 00:30:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18272162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marquess_of_pembroke/pseuds/marquess_of_pembroke
Summary: Five battles Catherine of Aragon won, and one she didn't have to.





	The Warrior Queen

**i.**

When Henry lifts her veil, Catherine has to hold back a gasp.  He is so different from the little boy she knew as a teenager, but still so  _young_ .

For a moment, she lets herself think of another boy, even younger than the one in front of her now.  One who stood beside her at the altar and kissed her with such warmth in his eyes . . . would he look like this, had God allowed him to grow up?

Henry slides the ring onto her finger and Catherine banishes those thoughts from her mind.  She is the queen of England, her future is wide open, and she will never look back.

 

**ii.**

"I want to send Henry his head."

Thomas Howard frowns, but Catherine has no time to waste on him today.  Her heart still sings from their victory over the Scots, and she offers another silent thanks to the heavens, fingers moving over rosary beads worn smooth by her worries.

This, she is sure, will heal the divide that has been growing between them ever since the death of their latest child.  She has lost count of the tears she has shed for them, the nights she and Henry have spent weeping in each other's arms.  But Flodden will change everything.  Henry will know it wasn't a mistake to marry her after all.

Her councilors advise caution, but Catherine stands firm.  She rubs her swollen stomach and begs her unborn son to be strong.

 

**iii.**

Catherine holds her daughter as if she is made of glass.  Exhaustion simmers inside her, threatening to take her apart at the seams.  Part of her cannot believe she has done it at last, is still waiting for this baby girl to stop breathing in her arms.

Henry kisses Catherine's forehead, eyes fixed on their child.  "I should like to call her Mary."

She nods.  Mary's eyes open, and in that moment, Catherine can see the resilience behind them.  Every beat of Mary's heart is a victory in itself, and she knows this one will survive.

 

**iv.**

She leaves Blackfriars in chaos, storming out with her head held high.  They shout for her return, but she is finished with the hurdles Henry's courtiers have built for her to jump, and after all the humiliations she has suffered, her pride refuses to allow her to remain.

Henry's glare burns into the back of her neck, but his rage washes over her like water.  Let him take it out on all the men too cowardly to tell him no.  As long as she lives, Catherine of Aragon will be the rightful queen of England, no matter the harlot's pretensions, and God will be beside her.

 

**v.**

Catherine is dying.  Her lungs rattle, the room swims before her eyes, and when she tries to sign her final letter, her hand shakes so badly she needs Elizabeth's help to steady it.

As her eyes close, her last thought is that she is finally free.  Free from the sycophants who continue to deny the truth, from her prison and those Henry has assigned to jail her, from the heresy that seems to have swallowed England whole, from the sickness that has been steadily tightening its grip around her heart.  At last, at long last, she is going somewhere the Boleyn witch cannot touch her.

Her chest falls for the last time, and she sees Mary, smiling as if to welcome her home.  Catherine takes her hand, surrendering to God's embrace.

 

**+i.**

As the army rides into the city, Catherine has eyes only for their leader, by now a woman long past grown.  Mary's hands are as tight on the reins of her horse as they will be on the reins of her kingdom, and the sun turns her red hair to tongues of flame.  Elizabeth rides beside her sister, her dark eyes so much like those of another woman Catherine knew, a lifetime ago.

The people swarm the streets, cheers drowning any noise of dissent.  Mary's smile is regal and serene, and Catherine smiles, too.  Even after all these years, they have not forgotten their true queen.

England gives itself into Mary's willing hands and Catherine is at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this. If you enjoyed it, please don't hesitate to drop me a line in the comment section.


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